


Despite All Odds

by booksnchocolate



Category: Bandom, Marianas Trench, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Fluff, Kid Fic, Kissing, M/M, Other, RIDICULOUS LEVELS OF FLUFF OH GOD, Schmoop, Swearing, a dash of H/C because that's how I roll, mentions of eating disorders, sex and silliness in the coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnchocolate/pseuds/booksnchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she’s born, Josh can’t keep his eyes off her. KID!FIC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Despite All Odds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savemasterpiecetheatre (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=savemasterpiecetheatre+%28tumblr%29).



> **Warnings:** uh, kid!fic. Cause I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Swearing, kissing, schmoop and fluff, mentions of eating disorders, RIDICULOUS LEVELS OF FLUFF OH GOD, and a dash of h/c because that’s how I roll.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t know these people in real life. Written for fun, not profit.
> 
>  **A/N:** Dedicated to [ savemasterpiecetheatre ](http://savemasterpiecetheatre.tumblr.com/) because she is awesome. This is ALL HER FAULT, cause we were talking about kid!fic and then… this happened. I’ve never written kid!fic before I’M SORRY. Feedback (good and bad) is appreciated. Originally posted on [FYJM](http://fuckyeahjoshandmatt.tumblr.com/post/67892303926).
> 
>  **Note:** Here, Amanda is the surrogate mother of Josh and Matt’s kid. Just to clear things up.

When she’s born, Josh can’t keep his eyes off her. He squeezes Matt’s hand so hard, Matt hears his knuckles creak. His heart is pounding so hard, he fears it might explode. Matt barely breathes as the doctor hands her to Amanda, who cradles her against her stomach, smiling blissfully despite the tears running down her cheeks. Matt’s chest tightens at the expression on her face, and he closes his eyes and gives thanks once again for Amanda’s decision to be the surrogate mother.

The baby girl begins to wail and Amanda caresses her cheek gently. “Sshhhhh, Samantha,” she croons. “Hush, lovely.”

Josh catches Amanda’s eye and she nods, and he reaches out a finger to stroke over the baby’s tiny forehead. He turns back to Matt and his eyes are bright with unshed tears.

“She’s perfect.”

“She’s ours.”

When she’s four, Josh walks her to the bus stop every day and waves her goodbye as she gets on the bus, and doesn’t look away until the bus is long out of sight. In kindergarten, Samantha – “no, Daddy, my name’s Sam!” – makes all sorts of odds and ends: pencil holders, picture frames, paper snowflakes; and Josh displays them proudly around the house (and Matt smiles to himself when he thinks that not so long ago, the only place Josh would have put stuff like this was in the dumpster). Times change.

When Sam is six, she comes home from school crying because a boy called her ugly. Matt explains how stupid the boy is, and reassures her that she’s better than boys like him. He tells her that her looks are only the tiniest aspect of who she is. Then, he teaches her how to throw a punch (just in case) and tells her she’ll never be grounded if she punches someone who was mean to her. He hugs her extra tightly when he puts her to bed. Then, he goes to run damage control on Josh, who can be found by the steady vibrations of the bass shaking through the basement floor. Josh doesn’t look at Matt when he comes in, but he does turn down the music to a more manageable level.

“You didn’t fuck up,” Matt says, and Josh still doesn’t look at him, but he changes tracks and puts on jazz, and that’s good enough for Matt.

When she’s nine, she gets her first iPod for Christmas and spends three days all but curled up in Josh’s lap, as he helps her download all the music that she wants. Matt takes about a hundred pictures of the two of them, heads bent together over the laptop, too-big headphones slipping down her ears, identical blissed-out smiles on their faces, and thinks his heart might just burst with happiness.

When she’s twelve, Josh and Matt are called into the teacher’s office because she’s been fighting.

“She broke Dennis Woxley’s nose,” her teacher says severely.

Out of the corner of his eye, Matt can see Josh fighting to keep a straight face, the fucker. He kicks Josh under the table.  _Shut up_.

“Wasn’t she provoked?” he asks.

The teacher frowns down at his files. “Dennis may have commented on her, and I quote, ‘weird faggy dad with the girly hair’.”

Josh makes a muffled choking noise like he’s just found his new Twitter handle. Matt sighs. Why is he the only adult in this relationship?

“Don’t you agree that it was a legitimate reaction to having her family insulted?” he tries.

The teacher glares. “There is a strict no-violence policy at this school, Mr. Webb. Don’t  _you_ agree that we need a safe space for all the children?”

“I dunno,” Josh speaks up, and Matt knows, he just  _knows_  they’re doomed. “Seeing as they’ve got idiots like you teaching them, are you sure these children are actually safe?”

Sam gets suspended for a week. Josh laughs, “I haven’t gotten kicked out of a teacher’s office since high school.” They take her out for celebratory ice cream.

She gets her first period on the family yacht when she’s thirteen. They’re moored just off the coast, basking on the deck in the sun, when she lets out a stuttered gasp.

“D-Dad,” she says in a trembling voice, “I gotta show you something.”

“What is it?” Matt sits up and squints against the sunlight. There’s a red stain on her towel that looks suspiciously like – “Is that blood? Are you-?” And then it hits him. “Your period,” he says through numb lips. Shitfuck, they’d bought her a sex ed book last year, and God knows she’s talked about it with Sara before, but – Matt flounders. What is he supposed to say?

“I…” she trails off, staring, unsure what to say, and Matt is abruptly brought back to himself. This is  _Sam_ , this is his daughter, goddamnit. So he scoops her up into the biggest hug possible, until she giggles and shoves him off.

She ducks her head. “I kinda need… supplies.”

“Pads or tampons?” Matt asks, because it is his daughter’s first period and he is determined not to screw this up.

“Pads,” she says. “But how…? We need to go back to shore.”

“No,” Matt says, shucking his t-shirt, “I got this.”

The water isn’t  _that_ cold. Besides, he was tired of lying around anyway. The store attendant does give him a weird look when he asks for a waterproof bag, though. 

She’s fourteen when she comes down the stairs and spends ten minutes in front of the mirror tugging at her clothes. “Does this outfit make me look fat?” she asks, and Matt watches in slow motion as everything goes to hell.

Josh drops the plate he’d been holding, jerking back like he’s been slapped. Matt can hear his breathing pick up from across the kitchen, and he leaps over the table, heedless of the glass shards scattered on the floor. He has to get to Josh before –

Too late. Josh is staring at Sam like he’s been gutted, eyes wide in his bloodless face. “You’re not fat,” he says, but his voice sounds like he’s dying.

Sam stares back at him and tosses her head, the very picture of a teenager. “Wow, you sound so  _honest_ ,” she drawls and Matt dies a little inside because of course the one thing she’d inherited from Josh was his  _sarcasm._  “Oh shit, I didn’t mean it,” Sam says, distressed.

“No swearing,” Matt says on autopilot, before her words sink in, and he looks up to see Josh crying.

Well, shit. It’s times like these that Matt wants to scream because  _this is why they can’t have nice things_. But there are tears running down Josh’s face, and Sam is staring at him like she’s never seen him before, and Matt needs to fix this  _right now_.

“Josh,” he grabs a chair and swings it around, pushing Josh down, “sit. Stay. Do not move.” He squeezes Josh’s shoulder for emphasis –  _hard_ , because he knows the pain will keep Josh grounded – and Josh nods.

“Samantha, come with me.” She balks at the use of her full name, but his tone brooks no argument. Sam follows him mutely to the den, where she stands in tense silence for a moment, fiddling with her bracelets and looking anywhere but at Matt. It makes Matt’s heart ache; instinct takes over and he crosses the room in two large strides, wrapping her in a giant hug.

They stand like that for a while, pressed close to each other, Matt’s fingers carding gently through her hair. Eventually, Sam pulls back and sits down on the sofa. Matt joins her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, wanting her to know she’s safe.

“I made Pa cry,” she whispers, shocked, like she can’t believe it herself.

Matt swallows against the tightness in his own throat. “He’ll get over it,” he says, because Josh will, because he has no choice, because this is their daughter. “He’s just – he’s had a rough past.”

Sam looks at him for a moment, eyes bright with unshed tears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He –” Matt swipes a hand over his lips and looks away. “He used to think he was – that he was fat, and it made him, uh…” He trails off, the words stuck in his throat. As much as he wants to tell Sam the truth, he can’t shake the feeling that he’ll jinx it somehow; that by saying those words,  _eating disorder_ , he’ll somehow push Sam down the same path. But they’ve always had a policy of being honest with her, and he can’t break that now.

“He developed an eating disorder,” Matt says finally, the words heavy on his tongue.

Sam studies her hands. “Oh,” she says softly.

There’s a moment of silence and then Matt pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her as if he can physically protect her from everything in the world. He wishes he could. He wishes he knew the words to say to stop anything bad from ever happening to her. But he can’t and he doesn’t, so instead he holds her tightly and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Look,” he says, pulling back, “Pa can – he’ll tell you the whole story if you ask him.”

Sam looks at him with dark eyes. “Is it – am I allowed to talk to him about it?” The other question,  _will he cry again?_  goes unspoken.

“Yeah, he’ll talk to you. He loves you, Sam. We both do.”

“I know,” Sam swallows. “I just feel bad for making him cry.”

Matt rubs her arm. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Sam says, and then looks at the clock and bolts out of her seat. “Shit! Dad, I’m gonna be late for school! I have a presentation due for the Science Fair!”

“No swearing. What-” Matt follows her gaze. 8:53am. “Shhhhugar!” he says meaningfully. “Okay, grab your stuff, I’ll drive you.”

They get to school in record time. As they’re pulling into the parking lot, Matt turns to her. “Sam,” he begins.

“Dad, I have two minutes to get to class.”

“I know,” he places a hand on her arm, “it’s okay, just.” He pauses and she looks at him curiously. He meets her eyes because if there’s one thing he wants her to understand, it’s this. “Sam, you know Pa and I love you no matter what, okay? You know it doesn’t matter at all how you look, or what you do, or any of that. I love you. We love you. Unconditionally, okay?”

Sam bites her lip and flings her arms around him in a tight hug. It’s awkward given the confines of the car, and the gearshift digs uncomfortably into Matt’s kidney, but he doesn’t care at all.

“Love you too,” Sam says as she pulls away, and Matt has to bite his lip in happiness.

“Yeah, sweetie,” he says, and if his voice is a bit raspy, well. Who can blame him? “I’ll see you at home.”

Sam smiles at him one last time before bounding out of the car. Matt watches her run across the lot, backpack bouncing behind her, and wonders when this became his life. It doesn’t matter; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he gets home, Josh is on his hands and knees, sweeping up the kitchen. He turns at the sound of Matt entering the room and sighs, pushing himself to his feet. Matt drops the car keys onto the counter, the chink of metal against granite harsh in the air. “So,” he says.

“So,” Josh echoes, not meeting his gaze.

“There was maybe a little bit of an overreaction there?” Matt prods, stepping closer, trying to meet Josh’s eyes.

Josh opens and closes his mouth soundlessly. “A bit,” he mutters, voice catching in his throat, and Matt is jolted back to high school when that same tone meant Josh was about to disappear for weeks on end. Instinctively, he grabs Josh’s hand, twining their fingers together. He moves into Josh’s personal space, crowding against him. He can feel the tension radiating off of Josh like heat, so he surges forward and claims Josh’s lips with his own before Josh can get away.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss, nothing kind in the mash of teeth and tongues, because gentle is not what Josh needs right now. Right now, Josh needs fire and heat and certainty and just a slight edge of pain to ground him, and Matt gives him that, raking blunt nails down Josh’s back, under his shirt. When he pulls back, Josh is flushed, lips swollen, but something in his eyes is clearer, more grounded.

“How’s Sam?” Josh asks when they break apart. His grip on Matt’s wrist is just this side of painful, but Matt doesn’t mention it.

“She’s fine,” he says, “I dropped her off at school.” A beat. “I think she’ll want to talk to you when she gets home.”

Josh nods and Matt hears his throat click as he swallows. “Okay.”

He blows out a long breath and continues, “So she’s-”

Matt nods, thumbing lightly over Josh’s knuckles. “She’s really okay,” he says. “Josh. She can handle it. She should know the truth.”

Josh looks away. “You know that was always my worst fear, right?” he says hoarsely. “The worst thing would be, would be me – passing it off onto her. Contaminating her.”

Matt sighs. “I think it’s a little bit self-centered to think that you’re the only person she’ll ever be influenced by,” he says at last.

Josh looks at him, prepared to argue that  _his fuckedupness is capable of contamination by osmosis_ , but Matt knows how to dodge the self-loathing bullet train by now. He bumps his hips against Josh’s. “If you’re so worried about passing stuff onto her, you better make sure it’s only the good stuff,” he says. “Don’t fuck this up, Ramsay.”

His tone belies the callous words, though; and Matt knows Josh can read between the lines, can hear the strain in his voice, can see the wetness in his eyes that signals what he really means.

“Josh,” he murmurs, turning his lips to Josh’s temple, “I know you’re not gonna fuck it up. I know you’re not gonna hurt her. She trusts you; I trust you. You just have to trust you.”

A moment’s pause, and then: “I love you,” Josh says in a choked voice and Matt’s blinking back tears because yeah, he knows Josh loves him, obviously, but Josh says it so rarely that it always catches Matt off-guard, and this time is no different. Matt feels the words like a punch to the stomach.

Josh presses his face into Matt’s neck and Matt feels the words beat against his skin, the mantra sinking into his veins,  _I love you I love you I love you_.

When Sam gets home, Josh is pacing anxiously around the living room, twisting his fingers together tight enough to make the knuckles pop. His head flies up at the sound of the door opening and Matt comes over to stand beside him.

“Hey, Sam.”

“H-hey, Pa,” she says, flicking her hair out of her eyes. It’s such a Josh gesture that Matt has to fight down a smile. There’s a moment where Sam stares and Josh stares and neither one says a word. Then Sam speaks. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she says awkwardly, and sidles out of the room.

Josh turns to Matt helplessly. “I-”

“Go,” Matt whispers, kissing him once, fiercely. He squeezes Josh’s hand. “Go talk to your daughter.” He shoves Josh in the direction of the kitchen. Josh goes.

Matt busies himself elsewhere. Part of him is dying to know how the conversation is going; he can’t deny the worry squirming in the pit of his stomach: what if Sam freaks out, what if Josh freaks out, what if he relapses, what if, what if, what if… Matt shuts the voice down with a shake of his head. Josh will explain. Sam will understand – if not everything, then at least enough. They’ll get through this.  _We’ll all get through this_ , he tells himself firmly.

When he passes the kitchen again, he looks in to find Josh wrapping Sam in a tight hug, Sam’s face buried in his neck. Josh is sitting with his back to the doorway, but Matt can see Sam’s fingers digging into his shirt and his heart stutters a little in chest. He walks in and wraps his arms around both of them, dropping a kiss onto the top of Josh’s head.

At last, Sam pulls back and Josh shoots her a watery smile. “Are we cool?”

“No,” Sam wrinkles her nose and teases, “I’m cool. You’re old.” Matt bites his lip to hide a smile because she is every bit fourteen. It’s comforting.

Josh yelps in mock indignant rage and reaches forward to noogie her, but Sam is already scrambling off the chair and dashing out of his reach. “You can’t catch me, old man!”

“Oh, it’s  _on_ ,” Josh grins – a real, solid grin that lights his eyes and melts Matt’s heart – and takes off after her. They manage to knock over a chair and nearly destroy the living room in their struggles, but in the end they’re both smiling, and Matt wouldn’t have it any other way.

Josh freaks out on her first day of high school, and nothing Matt says or does can console him. Eventually, he just steals Josh’s phone (“Texting her nonstop during class is the opposite of cool, Josh”) and all but drags him into the bedroom (“Take your pent-up energy and channel it toward something useful or I swear to God you’re not getting laid until Christmas”). Three hours and five orgasms later, Josh is considerably more mellow by the time Sam comes home, ready to regale them with epic tales of homeroom drama and new best friends. When she makes Honour Roll first term, Josh buries his face in his hands and legitimately starts sobbing (he’ll deny it to his dying day, but Matt has detailed photographic evidence). The next day, Josh goes out and buys her her first guitar, and from then on, there’s hardly a moment when the house doesn’t echo with the strumming of guitar chords.

Sam is sixteen the first time she says “I hate you!” and means it. Matt can’t talk, can’t move, can’t breathe – he feels like he’s been slapped in the face, can almost feel his heart bleeding from her words. The vitriol, the anger on her face scare him to the core, and he knows that he’ll never forget this moment as long as he lives. She gets in her car and the tires shriek as she peels off into the night. Matt chases after her on foot until he can’t run anymore, and drops to his knees on the unforgiving asphalt.

He has to call Josh to come get him.

He’s silent the whole ride home. He doesn’t say a word when Josh looks at him sideways, ignores the slight tilt of his head that says  _you wanna talk about it?._  Matt shakes his head, presses his lips together, and stays silent. He toes his shoes off as soon as they get inside and walks to the bedroom and shuts the door wordlessly in Josh’s face when he tries to follow.

_Deep breaths_ , he thinks, making a conscious effort to fill his lungs. He tells himself it’s not Sam’s fault – she doesn’t know what her actions mean, the memories she brings floating to the surface. She doesn’t know about the dark nights waiting by the telephone, praying for a call but crying when the phone rang because what if it was the police needing to ID a body? She doesn’t know about sinking, drowning in fear because it was Friday and Josh’s seat had been empty all week. She doesn’t know about the utter horror of seeing a skeleton turn up to band practice, in the guise of his best friend. She doesn’t know about the wrecked, breathless terror Matt felt when he saw Josh cry for the first time.

_Thump!_  Matt punches the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. He pulls back and his hand is stinging but he barely feels it. He punches the wall again and again and again, and they’re going to have to redo the wall at this point but he doesn’t care, he’s too far gone to give a damn because this is exactly how it started with Josh, first he was gone for one night, and the next thing Matt knew, he was absent for months, and Matt’s heart is breaking just thinking about it because Josh was just a fucking kid and he doesn’t even want to  _think_ about that happening to Sam and it’s his fault it’s all his fault –

The bedroom door slams open on its hinges and Josh flies into the room, wild-eyed. “Matt!” he bursts out, “Are you okay? I heard-” He cuts himself off as he catches sight of the dents in the wall, the loose plaster flakes on the floor. “Holy  _shit._ ”

Matt stares down at the carpet mutely. There are hands on his arm. Josh is pulling him over to the bed, sitting him down.

Josh gets straight to the point. “Matt, what the hell?”

Matt chokes. “Sam…” And he doesn’t have to say anything else because Josh gets it, understands everything Matt’s saying without even having to try. Beneath the fog of fear and shame, Matt remembers why he fell in love.

Josh moves to crouch in front of him, sliding a hand up to cradle his face. “She’s fine, Matty. She texted me when I came to get you. She’s staying at Addy’s.” He strokes a thumb across Matt’s cheekbone. “She’s fine.”

Matt nearly loses it right there. Sam is safe. Thank God, his daughter is safe. But the tightness in his chest won’t subside, and the prickling in his skin won’t go away. “How can you  _know_?”

“She texted me,” Josh repeats. “Do you wanna see the text?” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, thumbing through the lock screen before Matt can reply. He holds the phone in front of Matt’s face so he can see the text, and that’s great, but – Matt snatches the phone away. Words on a screen. How easy is it to fake a text reply? Easier than faking a phone call, easier than forcing a smile. An image hits him like a train: sixteen year-old Josh leaning against the wall ( _so he doesn’t fucking fall over_ , a bitter, traitorous voice whispers), grimacing at Matt in a facsimile of a smile through a haze of smoke, broken words stumbling from his lips,  _no really, Matt, I’m fine_.

_And I let that slide_ , Matt thinks numbly.  _And now this_ -

“Hey!” Josh snaps, yanking him back to the present. He grabs the phone from Matt’s hands, jostling his bruised knuckles, and Matt gasps.

Josh frowns. “What-” he starts and then sucks a sharp breath in through his teeth as he catches sight of Matt’s hands. “Fuck, Matt. Your hand.”

_I deserve the pain_ , Matt wants to say,  _I had to stop myself from thinking. My daughter hates me_. He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m gonna get some ice,” Josh says, shoving himself to his feet. He fixes Matt with a Look. “You stay here, got it? No moving.”

Matt doesn’t reply and Josh shoots him one last look before leaving. He hears Josh thumping down the stairs, rattling around in the kitchen, but the fog is still heavy in his head and he can’t think beyond the tide of panic swirling blackly in his chest, barely kept at bay.

At last, Josh comes back and sits beside him on the bed. “Here,” he says, gently taking Matt’s hand in his, “let me see.” He lets out a low whistle as he inspects the damage. “Wow, Matty, you really got yourself good.” The pained edge to his voice belies his joking words, though, and Matt knows what he’s really saying.

“Sorry,” Matt sighs, pressing his thigh against Josh’s as an apology.

“It’s okay,” Josh says. He picks up a damp cloth, dabbing gently at the split skin on Matt’s knuckles. Matt bites his lip and ducks his head, feeling all of five years old and embarrassed by his reaction to the whole situation. Josh doesn’t seem to mind, though, humming tunelessly under his breath as he presses a cold, towel-wrapped bag to Matt’s knuckles. The haze of panic slowly subsides.

“Are those frozen peas?”

“What?” Josh looks at him askance, “It’s not my fault we don’t have any ice packs.”

Matt sleeps on the couch that night, despite Josh’s angry protests. He drags a pillow and a blanket from the linen closet and stubbornly refuses Josh’s pleas to come to bed. If asked, he couldn’t explain why he needs it; he just  _does_ , the teenager in him hollering that he’ll never see Sam again; that he needs to be by the phone in case it rings in the middle of the night; that he doesn’t deserve Josh’s warmth at his back because he made his daughter run away from home… Eventually, Josh sighs and leaves him to it, though he does come down to say goodnight, brushing Matt’s hair back from his eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, Matty.”

Matt wishes he could believe that.

The next day, Matt takes off for the studio with the intention of staying there all day, but Josh puts his foot down point blank at 4pm. “You’ve been there all day, Matt, could you just fucking come home now?” Matt debates saying no, or just hanging up the phone, but Josh has a point. Besides, he can’t play guitar for shit with his knuckles busted half to hell. He grumbles his assent over the line.

“D’you need a ride?” Josh’s voice is tinny through the phone. Matt eyes the grey skies, looming with the promise of impending rain.

“Naw,” he says eventually, biting the inside of his cheek. More time alone won’t hurt.

Josh greets him at the door when he gets home, all but dragging him inside to examine his hand. He hisses through his teeth at the swelling. “You should get this checked out.”

Matt shrugs out of his hold. He’s been on edge since Sam drove off; his hand hurts like a bitch, though he’ll never say that out loud; and there’s a steady pounding in his temples threatening to turn into a truly impressive headache if he can’t sort this out soon. “Where’s Sam?” he asks.

Josh gives him a long look. “She’s in her room,” he says carefully. “You can probably go talk to her.”

Matt turns and drags himself up the stairs to Sam’s door. He knocks once, twice, with his good hand.  “Sam?”

There’s a sharp pause and Matt imagines her sitting at her desk, looking up from her work. “No.”

Matt rubs a hand down his face. “Sam, please?” he tries again.

“No.” There’s a slight waver in her voice, but she doesn’t open the door.

Matt sighs and swallows against the tightness in his throat. He slides down the door to sit back against it. “I know you don’t wanna speak to me right now,” he says, throat tight. “But maybe – maybe you can just hear me out, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. “Sam, I’m really sorry that I yelled at you yesterday. I’m sorry for getting angry at you for wanting to go to the party. I didn’t mean to yell; I was just really worried and-”

Matt breaks off; his throat is closing up and he sniffs back tears. He can do this, he’s a grownup, he’s – fifteen and his gut is clenching because Josh said he went to a party last weekend and Matt hasn’t heard from him all week and –

“Ah!” He topples backwards as the door is pulled open, flailing unceremoniously into Sam’s room. He scrambles to sit up as she sinks down beside him, plucking at the carpet.

“Sam…” He reaches out a hand, slowly, as if to a wild animal. She leans toward him, ever so slightly as his hand lands on her shoulder.  That touch is like the breaking of a dam and suddenly she’s all but crawling into his arms, pressing her face into his chest.

“Dad!”

Matt shushes her, stroking her hair with trembling fingers. He presses his face into her hair and just breathes, and if his eyes are kinda wet, well. There’s no one to see.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says into his shirt, “I don’t hate you.”

Matt kisses the top of her head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry too. It’s okay.”

They stay like that for a while and then Matt helps her to her feet and they go downstairs. Josh is in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove and jiving along to the radio. The scene is lit with warm yellow light, and suddenly, Matt feels a rush of affection for the world because hey, his daughter doesn’t hate him. He winks at Sam and she grins back as he sneaks up behind Josh on padded feet, craning up to plant a big, wet raspberry on the back of his neck. Josh shrieks and flails wildly, narrowly missing Matt’s head with the spatula, but he’s smiling. Matt inclines his head slightly in response to the unasked question and Josh beams, puling him in for a kiss.

“Eww, guys! Get a room!” Sam wails from the table, and they break apart still grinning. “I’m scarred for life!”

“I highly doubt that,” Josh mutters as he sits down with his food. “I saw your browser history that one time.”

“Like you’re not just as bad,” Sam retorts, sticking her tongue out at him as she loads up her plate.

After dinner, Sam gets up to put her plate in the dishwasher, then plops back down at the table. “Look,” she says solemnly, “I’m sorry for getting angry yesterday, but I still really want to go to the party. I know you’re worried, but it’s just gonna be a bunch of us in Esra’s basement; we’re not even gonna go anywhere. I’ll even text you.”

When there’s no response, she continues, “I’m  _sixteen_.”

_So was Josh when he started doing heroin!_  Matt wants to yell. Josh squeezes his thigh under the table, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. Sam is not Josh. Sam likes snowboarding, painting her nails, and blogging. Sam is acing every subject but chemistry. Sam has literally had in-depth discussions with Josh about her first crush, and if that doesn’t say good things about a parent-child relationship, Matt doesn’t know what does. He sighs and Sam tenses like she already knows she’s won.

“Alright,” he says, “you can go.”

“Yes!” Sam bounces out of her chair and throws herself at him in a hug. “Thank you!”

“But you have to text us,” Matt says into the armful of teenage girl. “Text us when you get there and tell us how it’s going, and if you feel unsafe and-”

“Okay,” Sam nods like a bobblehead, smile splitting her face. “Oh my God, I have to call Esra, I have to tell her. I have to call Addy. I have to figure out what to wear!” She takes off upstairs in a whirlwind of excitement.

Matt fingers his bruised knuckles. He looks up to find Josh staring at him, an odd expression on his face. “What?”

“I think it’ll be good for her,” Josh says.

“Yeah?” Matt’s tone is doubtful.

“Yeah,” Josh nods. “It’ll be good for her to get out a little.”

Matt sighs again. “You’re probably right,” he admits. “I’m just… scared.”

Josh presses closer, leaning his head on Matt’s shoulder. “I’m not exactly thrilled either, but, I mean, when else is she gonna do this, y’know?”

“You’re right,” Matt says, resting his head against Josh’s. He yawns. He’s suddenly very tired.

“Ugh,” Josh makes a pained noise and Matt realizes he’s looking down at their joined hands – more specifically, at the swollen monstrosity that is Matt’s injured hand. “Please go get that looked at, Matty.”

Matt rolls his eyes but agrees because he kinda wants to be able to play his guitar again. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

He’s true to his word, and the doctor hems and haws over his hand for a solid five minutes before telling him it’s a minor metacarpal fracture, taping his fingers together, and writing him a prescription for painkillers. Josh looks at him with dark eyes when he gets home, eyeing the white gauze like it has personally offended him. Matt shrugs awkwardly. “Six to eight weeks,” he says in answer to the question in Josh’s gaze, and Josh sighs, pulling him closer.

“Maybe that could have gone better?” he suggests.

Matt presses into Josh’s chest. “Yeah,” he admits, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of Josh’s body soothe him.

Sam doesn’t comment on Matt’s hand, but she does text them faithfully during the party, and she comes back the next day tired, makeup smudged, but happy; and something loosens in Matt’s chest. Maybe this will be okay.

She’s seventeen when she brings a boy home for the first time. She disappears to her room for a moment, leaving The Boy stranded with Matt and Josh in the foyer. And okay, fine, that’s cool, but then Josh makes up some bullshit excuse about getting food ready and sashays back to the kitchen, smirking at Matt as he goes. Matt wants to punch him.  _Sure, leave me alone with The Boy_! he wants to scream. Instead he grits his teeth and forces a smile at the … person who is apparently dating his daughter.

“So… Benjamin,” he begins awkwardly.

“It’s, uh. It’s Brandon, actually,” the youth says, and Matt dies a little more inside.

“Right.”

It basically goes downhill from there.

After dinner, when Ben- Brandon, whatever – has gone back home and Sam is up in her room, no doubt cooing over the roses Brandon brought her, Matt whirls around and points an angry finger at Josh. “You!”

“Me?” Josh asks, that asshole, like he doesn’t know how excruciating that was for Matt. “What’d I do?” But his eyes are bright and he’s smiling and Matt growls low in his throat because Josh knows  _exactly_  what he’s done. Matt withholds sex for a week after that, until Josh finally apologizes for leaving him alone with The Boy.

“I’m sorry,” Josh laughs into Matt’s mouth, cupping his ass, and yeah, it’s been a long week. “Let me make it up to you.” He does. In spectacular fashion.

And if Sam finds a pack of condoms slipped under her door one evening, she doesn’t comment.

She’s eighteen and there’s a thick, cream-coloured envelope waiting for her on the kitchen table when she gets home from school. Matt nearly fainted when he pulled it from the mailbox that morning, and he’s been trying not to think about it all day, with little success. He’s fairly vibrating when Sam gets home, and he’s pretty sure his voice is a good two octaves higher than normal when he says, “There’s mail for you.”

Josh looks at him as Sam moves into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me your voice could go that high?” he asks. “Could’ve used that on our recordings!”

Matt punches him in the shoulder.

In the kitchen, Sam has already instagram’d the envelope and is staring at it, wide-eyed. “Oh,” she breathes, and Matt flashes back to the day he received his own envelope, heavy with choice and promise. “Is this…?”

She trails off but Matt already knows what it is. He swallows and grips Josh’s hand tighter. “Why don’t you open it?”

“S-sure,” Sam says, voice faint. She slides a nail under the flap and rips it open, pulling out the contents: a glossy brochure, numerous pamphlets, and a letter on official letterhead. She scans it quickly and Matt doesn’t breathe at all.

“I got in,” Sam says, breathlessly. Then, stronger, “I – I got in! Dad, Pa, I got into U of T!”

“Oh my God,” Josh says faintly. “Holy shit.”

Matt’s too busy remembering how to breathe to berate him for his language.

“I have a  _future_ ,” Sam says wonderingly, staring at the letter in her hands, and Matt wants to laugh because she’s their daughter,  _of course_  she has a future, she’s had a future since before she was even born – but his chest is tight with emotion and he doesn’t trust himself not to break into actual tears of happiness. 

And then it doesn’t matter because Sam is launching herself at them in a flying-tackle hug. Matt buries his face in her hair, and then pulls back. “Congratulations,” he rasps thickly, smiling wide enough that his face hurts but not caring. He blinks aggressively; he can’t cry, he can’t cry, he bet Josh twenty bucks that he wouldn’t cry when this day came – tears slip down his face anyway, and Sam laughs incredulously as Josh crows in victory.

“Oh my God, Dad, are you crying?”

“No,” Matt denies, wiping his face on his t-shirt. Beside him, Josh keeps laughing. “Shut up.”

“Oh my God,” Sam says again, giddily, clutching the letter to her chest; and Matt swells with pride once again because this is daughter, his little girl going off to university. He can’t believe it.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, and Sam beams at him, her smile lighting up the room.

They go out for dinner to celebrate, first to Sam’s favourite sushi place, and then to a dessert café where Sam orders the most outrageous sundae on the menu, and Josh steals the whipped cream from her and Matt’s desserts to pile on top of his own waffle – and ends up getting some on his face in the process, just as Matt tries to take a picture. In the end, Matt gives up on the smartphone and just drinks them in, laughing, unguarded and happy, and thinks that, despite all odds, they’ve made it.


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda: victoy!our-daughter-got-into-university!sex! OH MY FUCK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely silly thing I wrote while dicking around on the actual fic. A little bonus for peeps who bother to read my stuff on here ;-)

“My baby,” Josh pants as he thrusts into Matt, “is going – to university!”

Matt’s hands fist in the sheets. “Fuck! I – fuck!”

“Shit,” Josh breathes, stopping for a moment to rest his forehead against Matt’s, “I can’t believe this.”

Matt keens at the loss of movement. “Don’t stop!” he whines. “I can’t believe it – ahh! – either.”

Josh starts thrusting again, rolling his hips to hit Matt’s prostate dead-on, making Matt whimper with each thrust. “God, she’s – she’s gonna move out-t.” Josh stutters on the last syllable and Matt can feel how close he is to coming. He reaches out to twine their fingers together and digs his heels into Josh’s ass, forcing him in deeper.

“We’ll – we’ll have – S-skype,” he says, trying to get Josh to hit that spot again. “Josh, come on.”

“’Kay,” Josh pants and rolls his hips into Matt again, making him buck and cry out. He drops a wet kiss onto Matt’s neck and picks up the rhythm, thrusts getting shallower and more uneven until he comes inside Matt with a grunt.

“F-fuck,” Matt gasps, so close to the edge but not there yet, needing just a little more friction to get him off. “H—mmf!”

Josh cuts him off with a kiss, snaking a hand between them to grasp Matt’s dick, slick with precome. He runs a thumb over the head and Matt nearly chokes on his own tongue, he’s so close. Josh kisses him again, hard, and strokes him once, twice – and then Matt’s shouting into Josh’s mouth as he comes, streaking both their stomachs with white.

Josh rolls over and drops down beside him as Matt trembles through the aftershocks. He grabs a cloth and starts wiping them off.

“’S that my shirt?” Matt asks, too blissed out to really care.

“It was closer,” Josh says, tossing it aside. He flops down and looks up at the ceiling. “University.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, “I know.”

Josh laces their fingers together. “I never really thought this would happen. I mean, I guess I did, but… It’s like, wow, y’know?”

Matt kisses him again, smiling. “I told you you didn’t fuck up.”


End file.
